


Gentlemen prefer blondes

by gremlinloquacious



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, crack!, elf-fanboy-lovers, kinkmeme prompt, my ship of the week, this is the silly fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:18:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlinloquacious/pseuds/gremlinloquacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary goes as follows - Gimli and Eomer get trapped in the Glittering Caves behind Helm's Deep. Gimli has a thing for blondes.</p>
<p>for the kinkmeme prompt - <br/>Gimli/Eomer<br/>Literally anything. Because I have a strange and deep love of this pairing. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I will give my kingdom to anyone who writes this!!!</p>
<p>This prompt got away from me - I have written a silly cracky fill and a fluffy romance fill. This is the crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentlemen prefer blondes

“Have you found anything yet, Master Dwarf?”  
  
“Give me time, Horsemaster, give me time!”  
  
“There is little to give!” Eomer called back to the shorter figure behind him as he cut down another of Saruman’s soldiers – only to be attacked again by two more.  
Neither he nor Gimli could guess how long it had been since they had been separated from the others, or how they had managed to become trapped between the hard rock of the mountainside and the now overflowing Deeping Stream; now swarming with orcs and Wildmen.  
  
They needed a way out, and as another Rohirrim fell beside him, the dwarf’s search of the rock-face became more intense. Eomer had told him that there was a cave-system within the Mountain, behind the Hornburg – and that would be their way out of this corner – to find an outlet, a crack or fissure and retreat.   
  
“To me, Eomer, to me!”   
  
He had found it. A crack in the rock just large enough, that led onwards into the darkness. It was big enough for a dwarf but would be a struggle for a man or orc. It would have to do.  
  
He grabbed the Horsemaster and pulled him back to the fissure opening, forcing him into the narrow space (the man was infuriatingly tall) before turning to fend off two Wildmen who were following; but ran past, not even noticing him. Running away from the stream culvert he and some Men of Rohan had blocked but an hour ago.

The second blast at the Deeping Wall had taken everyone by surprise, but most especially Gimli.  
  
As the passage in the rock filled with dust and debris, Eomer pulled his comrade back to him; blood streaming down his now un-capped head. The Rohirrim coughed and spluttered and swore as he tried to squeeze them both through the narrow fissure in the suffocating darkness. The unresponsive and unconscious dwarf weighing far more than Eomer had expected, he struggled forward until he fell into a larger space with Gimli on top of him.   
  
As he rolled the dwarf onto his back and tried to catch his breath, adrenaline coursing through his veins; Eomer noticed that , strangely, he could see Gimli lying in front of him. Illuminated by some strange light. As he looked around, he could see that this was the natural light of the cave, which opened up into an enormous cavern, shining, glowing like a thousand diamonds by a fireside. Gems and metals and glittering pools made the cave look as if made of starlight.  
But its beauty would have to wait – he leant over his fallen comrade and touched his face – still warm.  
  
“Master Gimli! The battle is not over yet! Gimli come now, after your performance on the battlefield tonight, it will be shameful for you to be slain by a rock! And you have yet to prove to me” at this he shook the dwarf’s shoulders lightly, “that the Lady of the Wood is all you say she is.”  
  
Gimli was certain, for the moment at least, that he was dead. He groaned and stirred, starting to become aware of the throbbing pain in his skull. He was not sure where he was, and the drumming in his head was ceaseless. As he slowly opened unfocused eyes, he beheld golden hair, long and flowing and bathed in an ethereal light. Golden tresses like waves over the strong shoulders of a tall and beautiful figure.  
  
“Gimli…”  
  
 _I must be dead,_ he thought, mind hazy and muddled, _my Lady has come to see me to the Halls of Mahal._  
  
“Gimli?”  
  
The first hint Eomer had that his companion was alive was when he opened his rather out-of-focus eyes and mumbled something he could not quite make out.  
The second hint was when Gimli pulled his head down to his and kissed him. Hard.  
  
To say that he was taken somewhat by surprise was an understatement, and Eomer, son of Eorl, could boast a better (if awkwardly acquired) knowledge of Durin’s Folk after that night. For he was now locked in a rather rock solid embrace, and could only flail the free arm that was not grasping Gimli’s shoulder. As he then tried to push himself off the (apparently concussed) dwarf, Gimli only held on to the back of his head tighter and move his other hand to the Rohirrim’s bottom.  
This elicited a rather un-warrior-like squeak from Eomer against his companion’s lips, and the man lurched but ended up rolling over onto his back – the dwarf rolling with him, as passionate as ever.   
  
The Horsemaster noted blankly that he had not even attempted to move his face away from the dwarf’s and that his mouth was open. The only think that currently crossed his mind was some horrendous innuendo about dwarves having cunning tongues as well as hands. But he would worry about that later.

Eomer was now trapped under the ungodly strong dwarrow; who now had his hands in his hair and was no longer on his lips but moved to plant kisses on his cheek and jaw. His kisses on the man’s face slowed and then, as abruptly as he had started Gimli stopped. He focused his eyes on the face of the golden haired person beneath him. Scowling and disturbed expression plastered on their lovely face. Last he had noticed – the Lady Galadriel did not have a beard.  
  
Ah.  
  
“Master Eomer?” he croaked, blinking rapidly.Gloved hands still threaded through the Rohirrim’s hair.   
  
The man looked back at him sullenly, before grasping his shoulders and firmly but gently pushing him off and away from him. The dwarf made as if to say something, but did not. Instead sat staring at Eomer with a look of absolute confusion and the certainty that if he remained quiet he would eventually melt into the rock around him and not have to deal with this.  
  
Eomer raised himself and sat side by side with the dwarf before saying “Well I am glad to see you so hale at least.”  
  
The two warriors, man and dwarf simply stared out into the glittering cavern before them for a moment. With a sigh, the Rohirrim captain stood up to his full height and offered Gimli his hand, pulling him to his feet.  
  
“Come, Master Dwarf, we need to find our way out of here and I think you will be able to navigate these caves better than I.”  
  
Gimli was still a little shaky on his feet. And remained rather sheepish. Eomer scratched his chin and let out a soft chuckle.   
  
“No harm done, Gimli. But let us make sure to avoid any more knocks to the head. I doubt my sister would be too pleased if I married a Dwarf.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I actually really like this pairing. I may be one of two people in the world who do.  
> If you also ship them, and are of marrying age - then consider this a proposal to be best friends forever. *eyebrow wiggle*


End file.
